The Potions Master's Revenge
by StarDuchess
Summary: Everyone's been acting off since Valentine's Day. Auror Potter is sent to investigate how, when, where, why and, most importantly, who. WARNINGS: slash, but nothing explicit.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and make no money off of this. This is just for fun. Thanks to Keppiehed for the beta work!

* * *

**Title: The Potions Master's Revenge**

**Pairings: Severus/Harry, mentions Ron/Hermione**

**Rating: PG-13**

**Word Count: ~3300**

**Prompt: "Love philtres, chocolates, perfume ... Yes, for a potion master, there are many ways to exact revenge on Valentine's Day."**

**Warnings: none**

* * *

"You are the most insensitive berk I've ever met. Go on with your friends, Ronald. I don't want the displeasure of your company right now anyway." Hermione's eyes were wild with rage, and her hair flew out as she turned and stormed off toward the bedrooms.

Harry stood there with his mouth agape at his best friend. "Ron, is everything -"

"No, mate, 's not," Ron confirmed, shaking his head incredulously. "We supposedly had a wonderful weekend, but she's been moody and snippy ever since two nights ago."

"Valentine's Day?" Harry asked puzzled, then decided to tease his friend. "Did you forget?"

"No, 'course not! Hermione'd kill me. I showed up with a dozen _red_ roses, a box of chocolates, even a hand-made poem. She loved it all. Don' know what's gotten into her since."

"Maybe it's that time of the month," Harry suggested.

Ron's eyes widened a little. "Blimey. I don' wanna know." He shook his head to dispel that unpleasant image. "Come on, mate, let's just head out to meet Neville for a pint."

* * *

They Apparated to a local pub a few blocks off of Grimmauld Place, within easy walking distance to Harry's house in case that became necessary. The music was a little harsher and louder than usual but still within acceptable conversation levels; however, the place was noisy with all the blokes there gabbing away. There were a lot more than usual for a Wednesday night.

"Boy, this place's crowded. Do y' suppose there's a Quidditch game I hadn't heard about?"

"Don't think so. Maybe they're all here for the same reason we are: to get away from all the flowers and sweets and cutesy hearts."

Ron conceded the point. "Oi! Yeah, maybe."

Harry pointed to the back where a tall brunet was standing. "There's Neville. You two get us a table, and I'll snag some beers."

Ron nodded and headed off.

Harry turned to the bar and squeezed his way in. A few people recognized his scar even in the dim light.

"Hey, look. It's Harry Potter," said a middle-aged man on Harry's right.

"Bet he gets all the girls," replied his aging partner.

"Maybe that's why my wife's so upset," said a third from the corner.

"Hey, Mr. Potter. Thanks for saving us from You-Know-Who." This came from a young man to his left who appeared just a few years older than himself.

"Yeah, why aren't you with some pretty little thing? Here let me buy you a drink." The bloke had strawberry-blond hair and a crestfallen expression.

"Ignore him, Potter. His bloke left him this morning. Poor sod's on the rebound."

Harry politely nodded to his different admirers - who ran the gamut in ages and looks - once again hating all the attention. But for some reason, they seemed less enthusiastic tonight. Looking around him, the demeanor of the other men was sour, less jovial. Maybe they were all depressed about Valentine's Day. He knew he was.

He hadn't had a date in almost two years, and the few illicit dreams he'd had were just snippets of thin lips and long fingers caressing him.

Grabbing two Belgian grubbly-ales, he shook off the melancholy and worked his way back to his friends, who were listening to a drunk blond explain this morning's crisis. Ron motioned Harry to sit, while Neville nodded his thanks for the beer.

"So's there I was, shocked, standin' in my kitchen, wand raised in self-defence, as my girl launches another dish at me. Calls me a name, spits fire, you kno'. She said she'd had enough and burns me toast! I tell you, what good's 'em for?"

"Sorry to hear that, mate. Harry, I don' know what's goin' on. I've never seen so many blokes down 'n out before."

"Yeah, I was here quarter of an hour before you both showed up," Neville said. "Been listening to all of them complain about the worst of days."

"They do all seem depressed," Harry said, taking a long swig of his ale.

"Well, here's at least to good friends," Ron said emphatically.

Harry agreed, and they clonked their glasses.

* * *

Walking through the Ministry the following morning, Harry could sense the dark mood surrounding everyone. People like himself who'd had no dates for the holiday were understandably melancholy, but even those whom he knew were in loving relationships cast off bad vibes.

He spotted Ginny rounding a corner on her way to her office in the Department of Magical Transportation. She was fantastic at the security charms on the Floo network and was normally happy doing her job, but today she appeared flustered.

"Hey, Ginny. You're looking ... energetic today," he exclaimed, fumbling for something nice to say.

"Stuff it, Harry. I don't have the time. Someone's poisoned the Floo powder in dozens of hotels," she said tersely and began to pass by him.

Harry caught a whiff of her perfume, spicy and hot.

"Wow, new perfume. Is that from Dean? It smells nice," he tried to compliment her.

Ginny spun on her heels and slapped him hard on the cheek.

"Ow! Hey, what was that … ?"

"Don't mention that bastard's name to me again. Oh and this - " she slapped him on the other cheek! " - is for dumping me two years ago." Without another word, she stomped off.

His face stinging and his mind reeling in confusion, Harry meandered off to his boss' office.

Kingsley Shacklebolt gestured for him to come in.

"Glad you're here, Harry. We have a conundrum on our hands."

"The whole world seems to be in an uproar today, sir," Harry said, paying attention.

"It appears someone or something has been undermining the glorious holiday we've been celebrating. Dozens of domestic violence reports have been made in the last 36 hours, most from well-established, good folks, and we've discovered a poison in the Floo powder in upscale hotels."

"Yes, I just ran into Ginny, and she told me."

Shacklebolt's eyes narrowed in on Harry's face. "Are your cheeks okay?"

Harry felt indignant. "Yeah, she slapped both of them and walked off in a huff after I mentioned her new perfume. What is going on, sir?"

"Perfume, uh," the older wizard muttered. "Maybe you should try that, too."

"Do you think it could have something to do with the disturbances, sir?"

The black man nodded his head. "Could be, Potter, could be. Anyway, I want you to begin an investigation. The parchments are already on your desk."

Harry nodded. "Right away, sir."

"Good. Dismissed."

* * *

After reading through the papers and two handfuls of interviews later, Harry was convinced that deliberate mischief was abroad. If he didn't know better, he might have suspected George, but he knew his investee would not do this. It wasn't George's style.

In almost every case, the angry spouses and significant others had been given traditional Valentine's gifts over the weekend. Confiscating chocolates, flowers and perfumes for evidence, Harry ran a series of diagnostic tests and found traces of a strange potion as well as compulsory charms. Now he was standing in Honeydukes, waiting to talk with the owner.

"Mr. Grubner? Auror Harry Potter. I'd like to ask you some questions about your chocolates."

The slightly heavy-set wizard came over with an apprehensive air. "Yes? Is there a problem?"

"Perhaps. We've had string of irregular behaviour after individuals have consumed your chocolates. May I investigate your store?"

"Certainly. Uh, what sort of behaviour?"

Harry took out his wand and began casting more spells. "Anger, mostly," he responded. "Do you make everything from scratch here?"

Mr. Grubner shook his head. "No, not everything. There are some lovely Swiss confections that I cannot replicate, so I import those."

"I see," Harry said absently as the spells began delivering information. "Interesting. It appears that all your dark chocolates have been tainted with this potion. I recommend pulling them off the shelves and discarding them."

"Tainted!" exclaimed the chocolatier. "By gods, I make those myself. That's impossible. Unless you think I did it, which I didn't!"

"Has anyone else been left alone with these?" Harry asked, taking a few samples and magically sealing them away in an evidence pouch.

"No, no. Not for weeks."

Harry thought for a moment, then asked, "Is there any difference in the ingredients for these items than the others in your store?"

The poor shop owner looked pensive. "Why, yes, now that you mention it. All the ones you pointed to have a little bit of chili powder in them."

"Chili powder?" Harry's eyebrows narrowed in thought.

"Yes," Mr. Grubner said. "It is an idea I stole from the Aztecs in South America, where chocolate comes from. Just a pinch, and it heightens the roasted flavour in the dark ones. I've tried the powder in the milk ones, but those need more of the raw chili peppers. Here, try one!" The man handed Harry a round milk chocolate morsel with a dollop of red jelly leaking out the top. "That one is not tainted, see?"

Harry agreed that it was not one of the ones listed in his diagnostic report, so at the other man's insistence, he took a bite. Flavour burst upon his tongue, sweet and creamy and rich, the jelly oozing out the corners of his mouth, the taste fruity. The heat struck a few seconds later, but it wasn't much, just enough to reinvigorate the taste buds. He had to admit it was a good compliment to the chocolate; his mouth was alive with the earthy spice. "Very nice," he said.

"Aha! You see!"

Focusing back on his investigation, Harry continued the questioning. "So, it's just the powder that's affected. Where do you get the spice from?"

"I recently had a new supplier, some foreign spice importer."

"Can I have the name and address, please?"

"Of course," the other said. "Let me get that for you."

* * *

With the address in hand, Harry Apparated a few doors down from the building in a rickety section of old London. Before approaching, he cast more diagnostic and surveillance spells. Heavy wards had been placed around it to scare off troublemakers but not necessarily customers, although there was only a small storefront to mark its claim as a legitimate business. The sign above the door read 'Rare Apothecary Solutions'.

Glancing through the windows showed rows of glass jars and vials filled with ground spices and whole ingredients, some of which Harry recognised from his Potions class days. He walked up to the front door, his spells telling him only one person was inside. With full protection on, he opened the door.

Rancid fumes assaulted him, and he wrinkled his nose at the smell. He never did understand why someone would choose to work with such things. For all that, though, the place was immaculate.

"Hello? I know someone's here. I have some questions for you." He hoped the bloke wouldn't just run. He wanted some answers first. While waiting, he cast his detection charm again. Sure enough the particular chemical he was chasing permeated the room.

A bustle came from the left. Harry turned to see a tall figure in black robes carrying two large boxes and backing up through an open doorway. More inventory, no doubt.

Without turning the man said, "What can I do for you? Looking for something in particular? Wholesale dealings are my speciality."

The voice was familiar, yet it was still a shock when the wizard deposited his load and whipped around to face his 'customer'. Black, lanky hair, hooked nose, piercing black eyes: this face lived in his nightly fantasies and his waking dreams.

"Snape?"

"Potter," the other drawled. "What, pray tell, brings you to disturb my carefully constructed afterlife?" he said with mocking undertones.

"But, you can't ... I saw ... you ... Aren't you dead?" he blurted out.

"Unless I am mistaken, cerebral processes in the brain, contractions of the muscles and palpitations of the heart generally denote a living entity, as well as the tingly sensation that sparks from finger to wand that identifies one as a wizard." At Harry's glazed look, he clarified, "No, Potter, I am not dead."

"But I saw you die. I watched the life go out of your eyes. It was horrifying!"

Snape looked like he concurred with that point. "True, but that was only a stasis spell activated by the venom coming in contact with the antidote I'd taken earlier."

"Antidote?"

"Come now, Potter. You cannot honestly spout that you believed I would succumb to just such an attack. The Dark Lord often used Nagini to punish his victims. I would have been a fool not to have considered that outcome. Or do you see me as a fool?"

This last was said softly, a dangerous sign of Snape's animosity. Harry had to back pedal quickly. "No, sir. I never did. I hated you for a while as a murderer, but I never thought you were a fool."

The anger cooled a bit as a mask slid in place. "What motive have you for tracking me down now?"

"Honestly, I'm here on official business. I tracked a tainted substance to your storefront. Care to tell me where the chili powder comes from?" Harry asked firmly.

"What, no backup, Mr. Potter? How reckless," Snape countered.

"Monitoring charm," Harry stated. "Now, about that spice …"

"The _Capsicum annuum longum_ comes directly from my grower in southern Argentina. I assure you I only use the freshest ingredients."

Harry tried to be as neutral as possible so as to not alert his former professor that he was on to him. "How is the powder made?"

"First the chili is dried, then ground by hand."

"Who does all that?"

Snape narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "I do."

"And what happens after that?"

Irritated, he responded, "It is sealed in jars on my shelves. What are you getting at, Potter?"

Harry decided to change tactics. Besides, he wanted just a little more evidence. "May I please see the original chili peppers?"

Snape was taken slightly aback. "This way." He led Harry into a storage room filled with crates. Some smelled floral or herbal; others smelled foul, like rotting dead things. They stopped before a stack labeled '_C. annuum_, Consuelo Garcia, Republica de Argentina.' Snape turned to Harry, folded his arms and waited.

Peeved at Snape's rudeness, Harry took the initiative and opened the lid. What he saw were mounds of small, long, green peppers. "I thought they'd be red."

"Showing your ignorance again, Mr. Potter. The green ones are young and have more potency than the mature red ones."

Harry's lips pursed at the snide remark, but he didn't retaliate insults as he used to; instead, he took out his wand and with a quick "May I?" performed the same diagnostic test. The fruit came up negative, as he had suspected.

"I'll need to see the drying and grinding areas, as well."

Snape nodded and led him to a back area where various items were drying. "The peppers are here," he said, indicating several rows of wrinkly dried shells.

Harry was becoming well practised at this charm. Still negative. "And the grinding?"

Snape moved into another room filled with bubbling cauldrons, percolators, knives and, of course, the requisite mortars and pestles. The fumes matched the old ones back at Hogwarts. This was clearly where Snape spent most of his time.

Harry performed the test once again, but this time he encompassed the whole room.

"Mr. Potter, what are you doing? I have volatile projects going -"

"Don't worry, Snape. This charm won't set off any of your potions. It's designed to be non-reactive to magical signatures." He waited briefly for the results.

He smirked at the Potions Master, pointing his wand at him. "Congratulations, Professor. You're under arrest for illegal tampering of ingredients and poisoning of the masses. Come on, let's go." Harry released the body-bind curse non-verbally, but Snape dodged it.

"Not on your life, Potter! I gave up too much of mine chained to three madmen to give up my freedom now." He did not return fire, sure that it would set off Harry's monitoring charms and call more Aurors here. It was enough just to block Harry's spells.

"Then why in hell did you pull a stunt like this, ruining everybody's Valentine's Day?" Harry knew Snape was mean, but this … _this_ went too far.

"Just a bit of revenge. Why should the masses enjoy such a frilly day for love? What did love ever do for them?"

Harry paused at this outburst, too shocked to continue the fight. "You git. You know my mother's love saved me from Voldemort as a baby. How can you ask me that when my own love saved everyone again from Voldemort at the final battle? How can you ask, 'what did love ever do?'"

Snape responded coldly, "Well, it never saved them from themselves, and it obviously never saved me."

Suddenly, Harry could see the envy in Snape, the burning knowledge that no one would ever love him, the despair at a life so lonely when there was passion aplenty within him to give. With keen insight, Harry knew exactly how to bring down this opponent.

He put his wand away, then gently moved toward Snape.

"You don't think love ever saved you? Well, I know you're wrong. Your own love, as selfish as it was at times, saved your soul from Darkness. But perhaps that's not quite enough. Maybe what you really need is this."

Harry had walked into Snape's personal space. Without warning he leant in and pressed his lips to his old teacher. It was soft, tentative, simple, yet it sparked an inferno inside Harry. _Yes._ This is what had been missing from his own life, too.

Snape must have felt the same as he deepened the kiss. His arms came up in a vice-like grip around Harry's torso, crushing the younger wizard to his chest. They exchanged breath and tongues until both were panting for oxygen.

Dazed but returning to himself, Harry hated his next move. "I still have to arrest you."

"Could I beg for a community service verdict?" Snape asked, still feeling light-headed from the first kiss he'd ever truly had. He went back to snogging Potter.

Coming up for air, Harry said, "Only if you can reverse the potion." Heat suffused his body, and he just wanted more of these delicious kisses.

"No need. The potency will wear off in another day's time."

"So, you were just out for a bit of mischief, then?"

"Nothing permanent or fatal, I can assure you," Snape said, holding Harry's head in his hands, pulling on the unruly tufts of hair and directing their mouths.

"Good," Harry gasped between lip-locks, "then you should … get a light sentence." His hands held firmly to Snape's back, since his insides were rapidly melting. He wouldn't be able to hold himself up for much longer at this rate. An idea struck him.

"Maybe I should detain you for further questioning first."

"Would that be back at the Ministry, then?" Snape asked while moving to grasp Harry's buttocks and squeezing.

"Uh," Harry moaned, as shockwaves rippled through him, curling his toes. "No, my place. Now."

"That is one interrogation to which I will acquiesce," Snape smirked.

"Brilliant." Bringing his mind back into some semblance of control, Harry Apparated them straight to his bedroom at Grimmauld Place.

His report could wait until tomorrow.


End file.
